


Hard

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, offensive language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The EBT has been slashed and she's choking down the second-to-last tortilla shell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard

* * *

 

 

The tortilla shell is chalky against her tongue.

 

It’s eleven fifty-two at night and the window is wide open. It’s 72 degrees outside, but that’s colder than the stale 83 the apartment’s thermostat reads, and Darcy can totally rock the pajama shorts and tank top she’s worn in for the past two years if it means sparing the electricity bill the burden of running the air conditioner, even if they don’t exactly fit anymore.

 

The letter is sitting on the coffee table, it’s envelope carefully slit open in the movement of dread, splayed against the wood, still folded. She had already known it was coming. Social media would _not_ shut up about it.

 

Dropped from $198 to $69, effective at the beginning of next month.

 

She rips off another piece with her teeth, rolling it around in her mouth as she stares blankly at the fluttering, stained-yellow curtain the wind teases into attempted flight; wonders if it’s the taste that’s bitter or her mouth.

 

It had taken so much to sign up for the damn benefits in the first place; to admit that they couldn’t quite make the ends meet between rent and insurance and the ever rising price of gas. She remembers choking back tears, plastering on a fake smile as she signed whatever papers were thrust in her face.

 

$69 a month because a group of elected officials can’t come up with an agreement.

 

There’s a small knock on the front door, followed quickly by a firm press against the lock until it clicks. There’s no jingle of keys, no indication that whoever is at the door is a friend, but she doesn’t move from her spot on their stupid worn down couch as the door swings open without further protest; just turns her gaze toward the hunched man slipping through the opening, and the dark eyes that meet her own.

 

They don’t say anything. The door closes, and he steps further in, illuminated by the yellow glow of the lamp she left on. She watches as he pauses by the envelope and the letter, watches as he notices the emblem at the top of each, watches as his shoulders slump further down. Right now, there is nothing she hates more than life, nothing she wants more than rage and scream and cry and just give the _fuck up_ because this is too hard, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, and the entire world is blaming them, accusing them, and –

 

He looks at her, eyes impossibly wide and sad, as if he’s failed something, and she’ll never say any of this.

 

“What are you eating?” He asks softly, stepping cautiously closer. She waves the food around carelessly.

 

“Tortilla,” she replies, popping the rest in her mouth, trying for a smile. “There’s one more in the fridge, if you’re hungry. Water, too.”  He only shakes his head.

 

“I’m not hungry. You can have it later, if you want.”

 

And there he is, as he always is, standing as if the world has fallen onto his shoulders and lashed him for the audacity of believing he could hold it up. Worn down, thin, uneven in his breaths and knowing he’s as useless as everyone says people like them are. It pisses her off again, and she has to bite her lip to keep silent, instead reaching out in demand to be pulled up. He complies without hesitation, as always, and she stands only to lean into him, burrowing as close as possible, smelling the day on him, the heat and exhaustion.

 

“I should have agreed to leave the country when you asked,” she mumbles against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Kalkatta’s looking pretty great right now, huh?”

 

He tenses, draws her impossibly closer, tighter. “Darcy-.”

 

“Just don’t, Bruce.” Darcy presses a kiss against his collar, releases a shuddered breath that he echoes, their aching breaths mixing together as his hand drifts between them to rest against the expanded swell of her belly.

 

It's hard.

 

* * *

 

 

   

 

  

 

 


End file.
